


12 Days of Christmas

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is spending Christmas day alone after his brother's flight is cancelled. That is until his best friend, with whom he is secretly in love with, arrives at his doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	12 Days of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written by sunshinewinchesters  
> Beta'd by Astrophilla
> 
> Type: Normal life AU, pre Castiel/Dean (at first)
> 
>  
> 
> **The twelfth installment of our Destiel Advent Calendar! (wow! day 12 and 12 Days of Christmas! Happy accident)**

“So, the twenty-seventh?” Dean questions, raking a hand through his hair while the other presses the phone to his ear.  
“Yeah, that’s the soonest flight they had open, and that’s if the weather’ll stay clear,” Sam answers, sounding frustrated and apologetic and Dean just _knows_ he’s making those damn puppy eyes on the other end of the line. He straightens up, running a hand over his face and shoves the disappointment welling up inside him back down, swallowing hard. It’s not Sam’s fault, his baby brother’s just as upset about the damn weather cancelling his flight as he is. Damn the stupid snowy weather, damn it all. Dean’d wanted a white Christmas, but it definitely isn’t worth his brother not being to fly until after the holiday due to dangerous conditions.  
“Alright, I’ll see you soon, Sammy. Call me before you leave so I know for sure when you’re getting here,” Dean works to keep his voice sounding light, hiding just how crushed he is that he’ll be spending Christmas alone, in this damn house he went to so much work to decorate, with an eight pound ham he’s now going to have to eat by himself. He could’ve always waited and just moved their Christmas to the twenty-seventh when Sam would arrive, if not for the fact everything’s already in the oven. He’d spent the whole day preparing a nice goddamn homemade meal for his college kid brother who no doubt has been eating complete crap for the last four months since Dean’s seen him.

Well, looks like Sam is just going to have to eat the reheated leftovers. Dean sighs heavily, padding over to the couch next to the fireplace and dropping down onto it. “Bye, Dean. See you soon!” Sam says, and Dean returns the sentiment before hanging up. He tosses the phone onto the coffee table and frowns, folding his arms across his chest as he wonders what the hell he’s going to do for the rest of the night. It’s Christmas night, and he’s spending it alone. And while Sam not being there is pretty disappointing, it’s not the only reason why Dean’s so dejected, resigned to the fact he’s gonna be spending Christmas alone. It’s Castiel, too. Cas, his extremely attractive, reserved, but adorable neighbor, with whom it’s safe to say he’s been head over heels for for a good year now, or at least that’s as long as he’s been admitting it to himself. 

He knows he’s had feelings for quite awhile longer, but getting himself to acknowledge that was quite a process, which took several long conversations with Sam over the phone, his brother vying to get him to ‘get over his emotional constipation’ and own up to his affections for the man. Dean had long ago given up on the lame Hollywood notions of love, never having thought he of all people would be someone who’d want that apple pie life, to settle down with the person he loved, but there he is, on Christmas day, and all he wants is for Castiel to be cuddled up with him in front of the fireplace, watching a Christmas movie or two and getting drunk off the man’s company and not his own spiked eggnog. 

And now that he’s finally come to terms with that once horrifying four letter word, Cas is all he wants. Cas, with his deep, rumbly voice, his ethereal blue eyes, that small smile that’s more evident in his eyes than on those full lips. Before Dean met Cas, his life was one night stands and staying out late in bars, drinking as much whiskey as it took to help him forget just how lonely and unsatisfied with his life he’d been. But when Castiel moved in next door, with that tan trench coat and blue tie he wore nearly every day to his job as an ancient Hebrew translator, Dean quit being satisfied with all those hookups and booze binges. Slowly, Cas had become his best friend and unknowingly showed him what he really wanted, though there wasn’t a chance in hell Dean would ever have thought it was something of all people _he_ would want. Not in a million years. But all it took was Cas showing up in the house right next door to his to make him realize that yeah, he never would’ve wanted that life, with anyone _but_ Cas. With Cas...Dean wants everything. He wants everything he never even dared to consider. He wants things like Christmases spent together, unwrapping presents and feeding Cas his cooking. He wants to hold his hand and drive him around town in baby, his Impala ‘67. He wants to put a golden ring around Cas’ finger and a few years ago that thought would have scared the shit out of him, but now, there’s nothing he wants more.

No amount of the encouraging and somewhat threatening talks from Sam have been able to get Dean to admit his feelings for his best friend. This is the first thing Dean’s ever taken so seriously, that has ever meant so much to him, and he’s terrified of fucking it up. There are a thousand ways it could go wrong, and then what? He doesn’t even want to think about the possibilities, he just knows that if he says something like “oh by the way, Cas, I’m in love with you” then he’s jeopardizing everything besides Sam that means anything to him anymore. He pretty much lives for the evenings after work where he’d come home and offer to grill some extra steak for Cas to come over and eat with him, or the Sunday afternoons spent showing Cas how to change the oil in his car and check the brakes. As time went by, they started doing more and more things together, Dean going over to help Cas with his gardening, and Dean dragging Cas back to his house and making him watch all the Star Wars movies in a futile attempt to get the man to understand his pop culture references. Dean spends more time with Cas than he does anyone else, yet somehow it’s not enough. Dean wants more. He wants to spend the hours at night lying next to him in bed, wants to get up and spend mornings before work with him, wants to spend this Christmas and many more with him. 

Dean sighs, rubbing at his eyes as he sits back and contemplates turning the TV on and looking for something to watch. He’d invite Cas to come over, only for the holidays Cas always has to go to some big family thing in New York. So here he is, with no one to spend Christmas with, the scent of a huge Christmas dinner emanating from the oven reminding him of the fact. The tree Cas helped him decorate and the presents they had shopped for together sitting beneath it seem so depressing now, and he wishes that he could just forget about Christmas until it passes and then keep living his life. “Get over yourself, Winchester,” Dean grumbles, then realizes he’s talking to himself, which doesn’t exactly help the situation. He fumbles with the TV remote, turning it on and automatically flipping through the channels, and the volume is so loud he almost misses the knocking on the door. “Coming!” he yells, switching the TV off and heading over to the door. He throws it open and there is Cas, looking more beautiful than anyone should have any right to, standing on his porch with snowflakes in his hair, his nose and cheeks rosy from the cold, and that signature small smile on his slightly-chapped lips. He’s bundled up in a winter coat with a blue scarf wrapped snug around his neck, mittens on his hands, and in his arms, he holds one gift-wrapped package and a tray of Christmas cookies. Dean’s now sure how he is here right now but he doesn’t care; Cas is his own little Christmas miracle, and he’s not going to let his Christmas miracle stand out in the cold a moment longer.

“Cas! Come in, buddy!” Dean crows, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt as he leads Cas inside. Cas sets the gift and cookies down, unwrapping his scarf as he offers Dean another smile, blue eyes bright.  
“I hope you don’t mind I arrived unannounced, but I wanted to give you your Christmas presents,” Cas explains, and Dean’s heart swells in his chest, because damn, could Cas be any more endearing?  
“Of course, you’re welcome here all the time, you know that! You can stay as long as you’d like,” Dean says, taking Cas’ jacket and hanging it up for him.  
“I decided not to attend the Christmas celebration my family is having in New York this year. I’d rather be spending it you, if that’s okay,” Cas blushes, hurrying to add that last bit and there goes Dean’s heart again. How is it even possible Cas still has this effect on him? He’ll never know. He can’t stop grinning madly as he ushers Cas inside, the blue-eyed man setting the tray of Christmas cookies on the kitchen table, which upon closer examination are sugar cookie cut-outs of angels, frosted and sprinkled and everything.  
“Hell yeah it’s okay! Christmas just got a whole lot better! It’s gonna be just us for a while, Sammy’s flight was cancelled and he won’t get here until the twenty-seventh. I made enough food for ten, so I hope you’re hungry,” Dean chuckles, watching as Cas inhales and grins back, showing a sliver of the top row of his teeth. 

“It smells delicious, Dean,” Cas replies, peering into the oven before following Dean over to the couch. Dean can’t stop smiling; as stupid and sappy as it sounds, just Cas being here has turned his mood a complete one-eighty. Maybe this Christmas won’t be bullshit after all.  
“Okay, here ya go. Handcrafted by the one and only Dean Winchester,” Dean winks and grabs the present he sharpied Cas’ name onto from underneath the tree and hands it to his best friend. Cas looks surprised, fingers closing around the poorly wrapped gift as he looks up at Dean, his following smile so beautiful Dean wishes he had a camera. “It’s not much, y’know, but I’d thought I’d give it a go,” Dean feels a blush creeping up his neck, the adoration -- shit, is that what it is? -- in Cas’ eyes uncalled for considering all he did was get him a little something. Cas tears away the candy cane patterned paper with ease, lifting the black leather-bound journal out and turning it over almost reverently in his hands. He runs his thumb over the stitching on the spine, turning the pages and running his fingers over the inside cover. Dean’s about to apologize for it being so poorly done; after all, it was his first try making something like this, and it does have its fair share of imperfections, despite the hours he put into fitting the leather just right and the three times he stabbed himself with a sewing needle trying to get the stitching uniform. But he doesn’t. The awed look on Cas’ face stops him. “I know you’d rather write than translate, so I made you a journal,” Dean explains, but it seems Cas already figured it out.

He shuts the journal gently, locking eyes with Dean as he smiles softly. “Thank you, Dean. I love it.” Castiel’s deep voice rings with sincerity, and damn, Dean hadn’t anticipated Cas acting like he’d just gifted him the moon and the stars. Dean kinda loves it. “Open your gift now,” Castiel instructs, setting the perfectly wrapped package expertly tied with gold ribbons in Dean’s lap. He’ll never be able to understand how Cas’ nimble fingers can pull this off; compared to his slapped together, taped-up mess of a wrapping job, Cas’ looks like it belongs in a holiday magazine. Dean wastes no time in ripping the paper away, that child-like excitement grabbing hold as he eagerly pulls the torn paper away from the box now resting on his thighs. He opens the lid and reaches inside, pulling out a folded soft, dark green bundle, and carefully unfolds it holding up so he can see what it is. It’s a jade green knitted sweater, and Dean beams, reaching over to wrap Cas up in a hug, one hand still fisted in the sweater. “I had to guess your size when I knitted it, I hope it’s not too small,” Cas chuckles, returning the hug.  
“It’s fantastic, Cas! Thanks!” And Dean means it. Just the fact that Cas put this much time and effort into knitting him something to keep him warm sends that inexplicable warmth flooding through him, his heart doing some weird flip-flop in his chest. Dean’d never taken himself as a sweater kind of guy, but now he’s struck with the urge to wear the sweater Cas made him every day. He releases Cas in favor of pulling it over his head and down around his torso. It’s a perfect fit, down to the length of the sleeves and the width of the shoulders. “See, it fits perfectly!” Dean holds his arms up and out to demonstrate. 

“I’m glad. I wanted you to have something warm to wear, since you never listen when I tell you to wear a hat. I figured you’d might be more partial to something like this instead,” Cas explains, eyes soft as he watches Dean examine the sleeves. Cas is right of course, but Dean has a feeling it’s more the fact that Cas _made_ this for him than it is just that it’s a sweater.  
“Well I’m wearing it today, and probably tomorrow, too. It’s friggin’ awesome, Cas,” Dean says again, and when he looks up, the look on Cas’ face is so purely happy, so blissful and content, that all of those sappy feelings Dean’s been feeling come to a head in one euphoric rush and Dean can’t resist anymore. Castiel is beautiful, Castiel is kind, sweet, generous, he’s everything Dean’s ever wanted, and Dean is in _love_ with him. Dean closes the space between them, hands reaching up to cradle the side of Cas’ face and the back of his neck, and Dean presses his lips to Cas’ like he’s imagined himself doing for years now, over and over. He kisses him gently but with an undercurrent of everything he’s been feeling for so long, closing his eyes and captures Cas’ bottom lip between his with abandon. When he pulls back to gauge Cas’ reaction, uncertainty bubbles up inside him, the weight of just how monumental kissing Cas is hitting him like a punch to the gut and sending years worth of anxiety and insecurity rising to the surface, colliding with the ecstasy and joy of them finally having their first kiss head on. Before he can wonder just how bad he fucked up everything that meant anything to him, Cas’ surprise-blown eyes take on a dreamy, needy look as his eyelids lower and Dean’s heart races in his chest as Cas leans back in, knotting his fingers in Dean’s hair and kissing him like he’s a man lost in the desert and Dean is an oasis. 

Dean opens to Cas’ tongue eagerly, his own slipping against Cas’ while they explore each other’s mouths, Dean sucking at Cas’ bottom lip while Cas traces the curve of the roof of Dean’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. Everything is hot and and passionate, like they can’t get enough of each other fast enough; they have been deprived of the other for too long. Fireworks are going off in Dean’s head and he can’t believe this, can’t believe he’s finally, _finally_ kissing the man he loves, that the man he loves is kissing him back. Dean moans something like Cas’ name into the wet heat of his mouth, and Cas pulls back with a gentle bite to Dean’s bottom lip, his eyes hooded as he looks at Dean with such intensity something hot coils tight behind Dean’s navel. “I have loved you for so long, Dean Winchester,” Cas declares breathlessly, and Dean leans in to kiss Cas again, a second, third time, indulging in the taste of Cas, in the sight of those cherry spit-slick lips, in the bliss _he_ put on Cas’ face. Dean chuckles, resting their foreheads together and losing himself in the oceanic blue of Cas’ eyes, his fingers curling around the back of Cas’ neck.  
“Me too, Cas, me too. We’re both a couple of dumbasses,” Dean chuckles, and Cas hums low in the back of his throat, surging forward to continue where they left off.


End file.
